


Salvation

by aconstantcrisis



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Exiled TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), No Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:34:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aconstantcrisis/pseuds/aconstantcrisis
Summary: Tommy has escaped.  Months of solitude and being forced to destroy his own property had finally broken him. But he wasn’t one to stay broken. He's willing to do anything to get his discs back. Well, anything except work for his own things. That's what stealing's for, right?Technoblade is tired. He's lost his sword, he's lost a totem, he's nearly lost his horse, and he hasn't slept in three days. All he wants is a good night's sleep and maybe a couple of special potions to take the edge off. Somebody clearly wants to ruin that, however, and Techno is suddenly faced with an opportunity. An opportunity to destroy L'Manburg. For good.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Dream SMP Ensemble & TommyInnit, Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Niki | Nihachu & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i'm crisis, and this is my first fic.... ever!
> 
> there's probably gonna be no romantic relationships, maybe philza will have a dead wife or smthn but i think if i did write it in it would be dream/george. idrk that whole side of the story tho bc i just watch sbi. sbi for life.
> 
> plssssss point out spelling/grammar mistakes i'll fix them and also kill myself :)

Tommy hates the snow. 

He knows that about himself. So why, pray tell, was he trekking through a blustering snowstorm that bit at his hands and uncovered feet? 

To escape. 

Months of solitude and destroying his own armor, his own tools had finally broken him. But he wasn’t one to stay broken. 

Tommy can’t stop the sense of pride that spreads through him when he spots the faint glow of torches in the distance, signaling that his hours of journeying were not fruitless. 

He quickens his pace, dragging weak and frozen limbs through the thick snow that carpets the ground, squinting through the thick storm and huffing frozen breaths.

As he nears the cabin, he hears nothing but the howling of wind. There’s a horse in a small stable connected to the side of the house, whose name tag reads, “Carl.” The horse is covered in diamond armor and a thick blanket, and nickers at Tommy, asking for food.

“Sorry, big man,” Tommy wheezes, “I don’t even have any for me.”

Tommy hesitantly raises his hand to the spruce doors, placing his freezing fingers on the knobs. He considers for a moment turning away, finding another place to run to, instead of risking facing  _ him _ again.    
A gust of cold winter wind slams against Tommy, freezing him for a minute in frozen agony. Tommy strengthens his grip and pushes on the door with all of the strength he has left.

A warm rush of stale air meets Tommy’s face, and he stumbles inside, slamming the door shut. 

He looks around him, seeing the beautifully laid stone brick floor and white painted walls. To his left are chests, all pressed up tightly against the wall, and he grins.

Tommy flexes his fingers on each hand, wincing as they stretch and warm slowly. He doesn’t know how long he has before  _ he  _ comes home. God knows Tommy doesn’t want to fight him. Not after a three hour trip through a snowstorm in ripped clothes and one shoe. 

He tilts his head down and shakes the snow from his hair. It flies all over the room, leaving spots of melted snow on the chests. He blinks, sheepishly, and raises his arm to wipe them off, but pauses.

He doesn’t have to worry about getting yelled at anymore. He doesn’t have to worry about making a stupid decision and getting hit. He doesn’t have to answer to anybody anymore. He grins stupidly, and shakes his head again, this time relishing in the wet shower it flings. 

He pries open the chest nearest to him, humming absentmindedly as he rummages through. It’s mostly planks of wood, some ladders, a couple small trapdoors. He shuts it, and opens the one next to it. 

This one has a thick, blood-red woolen coat that oozes warmth against Tommy’s fingers. He pulls it out and slings his arms through the holes, shuddering at the sudden heat enveloping his entire body. The coat is much too large for him, hanging well below his knees, his hands lost in the sleeves, and Tommy grips the fabric tight to his body, breathing in deeply. It smells of fire and warm bread, plus another scent Tommy can’t quite place. 

Oh wait. That’s blood.

Suddenly, a creak startles Tommy out of his haze. His eyes jump up to stare at the door, unmoving. 

He waits, counts to one hundred, and then counts to one hundred again. Thoughts race through his mind.

_ I’m not supposed to be here. Dream’s found me. I’m dead. I only just escaped. I can’t go back. He’ll kill me. _

He waits in painful silence, but no other sound comes. When he realizes it wasn’t anybody, probably just a mob stumbling against the house or something, Tommy exhales. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. 

Slightly shaken, he turns back to the chests. With the coat out of the way, he can see more materials in the chest. There’s a sack of golden apples that Tommy hungrily grabs. Shoving one into his mouth and swallowing so quickly he nearly chokes. 

The apple is crunchy and moist, and golden juice dribbles down his chin as he attacks it with another bite. He can feel strength wash over him as the apple does its magic. Tommy eats three more apples with just as much vigor until he’s completely full. He turns to the next chest.

Here, he finds gold blocks. He marvels at their luster, wrapping his hands around the pure golden sheen. He lifts as many as he can and shoves them into the sack with the apples. He does the same with some emerald blocks, figuring he would take what he can. 

Tommy continues this routine, rooting through all of the chests in the room, taking what he found whether he thought he needed it or not, as long as it was valuable. He takes a couple pieces of diamond armor, figuring he could use it to protect himself.    
Tommy sat back on his heels after a few minutes of rummaging, assessing what he had stolen. 

It was a fair amount, certainly too much to carry around if he wanted to find a new place to stay. He would run out of resources quickly, knowing himself. Plus, he knew he couldn’t go  _ too  _ far from L’Manburg, because he still had to get his discs back from Dream. 

He thought to himself for a minute, pondering his options. He could try to convince… no. He doesn’t want  _ his  _ charity. Not after what he did. Tommy scowls at the memory, the shattered scream his best friend had emitted, the blood spattered cot that Tommy had sat by for weeks while Tubbo was nursed back to health, the scar that still covered half of his body. 

Tommy’s jaw sets.  _ No.  _ He would sure like to keep stealing from the chests, and take what he wants when he wants to. Who’s gonna stop him? Clearly nobody can if they don’t know that he’s there.    
Tommy grabs a pickaxe from a rack and slings it onto his back. He then kneels down to the ground, feeling for a loose stone. Once he finds one, he uses the back of the pick to pry it up. Once it’s up, he can start removing other ones. 

“Sure did a shitty job building this shit hole,” Tommy mutters to himself. “Probably too busy growing his potatoes.”

Once enough stones are up for Tommy to fit through them, he lifts his pick and swings at the exposed stone. 

  
Hours later, Tommy has carved out a hole in the ground large enough to fit a bed, a chest, and a crafting table. It’s not much, but it’s enough for the time being, Tommy decides. He takes some wood planks and fits them against the ceiling, so the stones can be placed back and removed easily.

He turns to the side, and swings his pickaxe again. Time to make an escape route.    
This takes considerably shorter to do, though Tommy’s arms ache with the strain and his legs shake with over exhaustion. He grimaces, swinging again and again through the pain. Finally, he deems himself far enough away from the house to start digging up. His hand breaks dirt to reach snow, and Tommy pauses. He doesn’t want it to be too exposed. 

Tommy turns back and crawls through the hole he made, returning to his little room. Using quick hands and a few pieces of wood, he crafts a crude sign with the words,

“No pussies allowed.” 

He grins to himself. 

Tommy turns to his small bedroll and collapses.    
He sleeps better than he has in months.   
***

Technoblade is tired. His legs fucking hurt from walking, his wrist fucking hurts because he’s using a shitty sword, and his eyes fucking hurt from staying open for the past three days.    
Three days. No sleep. 

Techno grunts as he swing his blade at the zombie in front of him, grimacing at the loud wail as it crumbles to dust. One down. A zillion to go.    
It wasn’t his fault he stumbled onto a spawner while exploring a cave system. It really wasn’t his fault he hadn’t brought any coal or wood with him to make torches, and it certainly was not his fault his sword broke two minutes into the fight, so he had to pick up the piece of shit in his hands.

Horribly rusty and unbalanced, the wrappings on the hilt torn and loose, the blade more useful for bruising than stabbing. Still, he swings and parries against the zombies charging at him, slicing and thrusting his blade through each unlucky mob’s gut one by one. 

There’s too many. 

Techno turns on his heel and runs. For the second time that week, he flees from the fight. 

_ Coward. Run away, little bitch boy. Fight them. Kill them. Spill their blood. Blood for the blood god.  _

Voices echo in his head as he leaps over rocks and nearly trips over his feet. He spares a quick glance behind him, hearing the groaning of zombies, the clattering of skeletons, the skittering of spiders, and the pounding of his own heart.    
There’s too much going on. Techno just wants to sit against the wall and cry. Deep breaths shudder through him. It’s too much. He missed the chest because of the spawner, there might have been an enchanted golden apple in there. He lost his totem because of the fucking butcher army, his sword is gone, he’s bruised and bloody from fighting for the better half of the week, and he hasn’t eaten in almost an entire day. 

He keeps running. He runs until he spots his saving grace, a ladder swinging gently down, and Techno leaps for it, hand over hand climbing until he reaches the top, the cool night air a welcome relief after spending so long in the musty caves. 

_ Lucky. Coward. You should have fought them. You could have won. You should have died. _   
The voices are relentless, definitely from the lack of sleep, and Techno feels a wet warmth pooling against his side. He reaches up to touch it, glancing down and sees a thick gash cut through the fabric covering his hip. Practically the only place on his body other than his arms not covered in netherite. Just his luck. 

There’s a concerning amount of blood, but Techno can’t feel the pain. He assumes that if he’s feeling weak and faint it isn’t from blood loss, but from sleep deprivation. He’d be fine. He just needs a little nap, and he’ll tend to the cut in the morning. It’s not even a cut, he reasons to himself, it’s more of a scratch anyways. 

Techno collapses onto the soft grass next to the large hole he had just climbed out of. His eyes slowly begin to droop closed, and Techno welcomes the warmth enveloping his mind. 

He slips into unconsciousness.

  
When Technoblade wakes up, it’s still dark outside. His hand immediately goes to his hip, to the gash he had received from a lucky mob last night. Sticky blood covers the wound and the ground next to him, but he seems to have stopped bleeding in his sleep. It’s clotted with dirt and crusted blood, but at least he’s not actively losing blood. 

Not for the first time, he’s grateful he can’t feel pain. Not physical pain, at least. The gash must hurt like hell. 

Techno grimaces. He pulls his pack off of his back, humming happily that he hadn’t lost it. He collected over a half a stack of diamonds in just those few days, and could make himself plenty of new swords with the loot. 

He pulls a bandage out, thick and heavy in his hands. While unravelling it and wrapping his hip, he recounts the many events of the past few days.

The army had shown up at his cabin in the middle of the night. Techno was inside, counting his potatoes when they arrived. He peered out the window, and was mostly confused. He had been living in his little cabin completely peacefully. He had done no wrong since the festival. He didn’t understand why they were here. He didn’t understand why they were all in full netherite with swords and glowing with enchantments. 

He didn’t understand why they took his horse. He didn’t understand why they beat poor, undeserving Carl to nearly his dying breath. He didn’t understand why they insisted on forcing him into a small cage, and dropping an anvil on him. He didn’t understand what he did wrong.

Technoblade rarely felt fear. Sometimes the mobs got a little bit overwhelming, but he never found himself in a situation where he thought he would die. Like, really die. 

Sitting in a metal box with death hovering over his head, he felt it. The shuddering waves of fear rolling off of him, the constant drop of his heart and his stomach as he waited to die. 

He knew he had a totem. He knew he would come back. He knew he wouldn’t be able to feel the anvil sink into his head, crush his body flat with its cruel weight. What was he supposed to feel though? What was he supposed to do? 

Techno blinks, shaking himself from the memory as he stands. His hip wrapped tightly and cleanly, his sword in his hand. 

Maybe if he had taken the day to rest, sleeping instead of immediately leaving and finding another cave system to explore, he wouldn’t be limping. He shakes that thought from his head, though, knowing that he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he had stayed back. Too much going on in his brain to settle down. 

At least he had gotten a few good hours of sleep, albeit uncomfortable and on the cold hard ground of a forest. 

Techno pulls a compass from his pack and begins to follow the red arrow, picking his way cautiously through the forest. He doesn’t want to pick any more fights. Not until he’s washed and eaten. He could go for some potatoes. 

When Techno approaches the house, he immediately senses something’s wrong. It’s just beginning to break dawn, and Carl’s still standing in his stall. Techno pets his horse with a loving hand and rests his head against Carl’s neck. 

He remembers the terror that had shook him when Quackity pointed his sword, dripping with enchantments and anger, and threatened his horse’s life. 

_ Kill Quackity. Carl did nothing wrong. Kill them all. They deserve it. Spill their blood. Save Carl.  _

Techno hugs his horse tighter. 

He pulls a carrot from his pack and feeds it to Carl, smiling slightly as the horse nickers and huffs for more. 

Techno turns to his doors and pries them open. He walks over to his chests, intending to put the diamonds and many iron ingots into their respective chest. When his hand rummages through the chest, he notices there are some emeralds and gold blocks missing. Weird. Techno spins to assess the room, and when he decides nobody is in there with him, turns back to the chest. 

With his loot successfully stored, Techno decides to go up to the main floor and eat some food. He sure as heck’s hungry. 

As he approaches the ladder, however, a creak at the door has his arms tensing and chest tightening. 

“Who’s there?” His voice is low and gravelly, and much less intimidating than he would like.

The door slams back shut, and Techno just barely sees a glimpse of blonde hair and a quiet voice.

“Shit, fuck. Shit.”

Wait. Techno recognizes that voice. It’s accent is very familiar, and annoyance stirs in his chest on habit. 

How could Tommy be here?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i'm gonna keep these chapters at around 2500 words and update every other day? are shorter, more frequent chapters better than longer chapters you have to wait a week for?
> 
> this got more hits than i was expecting, so here ya go, chapter 2

Tommy shouldn’t have done it. He knows he shouldn’t have gone back to the cabin for the third time that day, he knows he should have just  _ waited _ the few minutes it took to check and make sure there was nobody home. 

He should have noticed the footsteps in the snow, and how the torches inside were on, and how Carl was absentmindedly chewing on something.

He should have realized that the piece of shit was finally home. But he didn’t. And now he’s hot on Tommy’s trail as he sprints away, still wearing the fucking coat he stole, with golden apples in his sack. Tommy knows he can’t run forever, so he aims for the escape route he had carved. 

Jesus Christ. He had lasted not two days before being caught. He should have known. He’s shit at being stealthy.

Tommy reaches his escape hole and starts to dig. He’s too slow, though, and the bastard catches up with him. 

“What the hell are you doing at my house, Tommy?”

Techno is much more intimidating than Tommy remembers. He still has long pink hair, tied into a ponytail with a red band, and he wears full netherite. A red cloak drapes elegantly over his shoulders, the pig mask securely on his face. Tommy wonders if he ever takes the thing off. 

Tommy grins sheepishly at him. 

“‘Ow do?”

Techno’s snarl deepens. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be off with Dream or somethin’?”

Tommy’s eyes widen at the mention of Dream’s name. “I- uh… how are you?”

Techno doesn’t reply. 

“It’s pretty rude to ignore a greeting, big man. I’m doing great. How are you?” Tommy tries again.

“It’s pretty rude to be breakin’ into my house, Tommy. What are you doing here? What are you digging for?”

Tommy grimaces, contemplating completely lying and saying some bullshit excuse, but he knows the bastard’ll just find out the truth anyway.    


Wordlessly he turns back to the hole and brushes a few chunks of dirt back. It reveals a trapdoor. He swings it open and hops in. 

“What the hell is that? Does this… does this connect to my house?”

“Actually, it connects to my room.” Tommy retorts, giving a shit eating grin in Techno’s direction. 

Techno furrows his eyebrows, glancing in the direction of his house, then at the crappy sword in his hands. 

Why did he have such a shit sword anyways? It was iron and all banged up. It looked like it had fallen into a hole full of death and nobody cared enough to repair it. Kind of like Tommy. 

“Can I have your sword?” Tommy impulsively voices, shrinking back at the glare Techno gives him.

“What? Of course you can’t have it. It’s mine. Get your own sword. Or wait- no. Go through the tunnel. I wanna see what’s at the end.”

Tommy reluctantly turns back, annoyed that he hadn’t successfully distracted the big piece of shit. He got on his knees and began to crawl through the narrow passageway, hoping for a minute that Techno wouldn’t be able to follow him. No such luck, however, he seemed to be right behind Tommy. 

Eventually, they emerged into the sad room Tommy called home. It looked even worse with two people crammed inside, with barely room to breathe. Tommy’s face flushed as Techno let out a breath, obviously unimpressed with Tommy’s living situation. When he shifted over to open up the battered chest, Tommy cried out.

“Hey! Hey, stop! Stop, those are my things! Don’t touch my things.”

Techno looked up at him, eyes completely unfeeling and stated, “These are my things. You literally just stole my things.”

Tommy scoffed, “Well, if they’re in my chest then they’re obviously mine, shithead. Go get your own things.”

Techno rolled his eyes and dropped the lid on the chest. 

He raised his sword and met Tommy’s eyes. His stomach dropped. A cool blade kissed his neck.

“Tommy, enough with the bullshit. Why are you here?”    


The question was phrased more like a statement. 

“Well, I was living with my friend Dream- he was my friend- and it’s all been a re- it’s been a really confusing 48 hours emotion wise. It was like, uh, have you ever seen a zigzag Technoblade? It was like a big zigzag that was full of rainbows and also dog shit, like, it was so confusing, and then I’m- I… And then I realized that although Dream was a good friend for a long time, Dream is a wrongen and I hate him. And I don’t like thinking about him. I know that right now he has my discs, and I need to get them back.”

Techno leaned back slightly, lowering his sword taking it all in. He seemed surprised Tommy had opened up like that. 

“Well- uh… I’m not gonna pretend I got all of that, because honestly I kind of spaced out a little, but what I’m getting from this is that you hate Dream, and you want your discs back,” Something in Techno’s voice sounded… interested. Like he saw something to gain in what Tommy had just said.

Tommy shrunk back slightly, on guard, and his voice was slightly wobbly when he stated, “Yes. I do. I think. I mean, I know I want my discs, but I… I think I hate Dream.”

Techno’s sudden grin cut Tommy off from rambling. 

“Well, then, Tommy. I think we might be able to help each other.”

***

To be blunt, Tommy looked awful. He was missing a shoe, and his pants were torn and ragged. He was wearing Techno’s coat, which he had obviously stolen. It was the only item of clothing that didn’t look like it was falling apart. Tommy was missing a shoe. His blonde hair was matted and dirty, looking more brown than yellow. His skin was just as scuffed, with scrapes and cuts all over his exposed arms and neck. He had bruises all along his jaw, and yellow bruises around his eye that Techno recognized from years of fighting. Someone had been beating Tommy up. This gave a twist to Techno’s stomach. 

Techno didn’t really like Tommy, but that doesn’t mean he liked the idea of him getting the crap kicked out of him. 

Techno didn’t really like Tommy, but it was nice to see the small smile Tommy gave him when he said he could stay, the tiny changes in posture as Tommy realized that Techno wasn’t going to attack him, or steal his stuff (or rather the stuff he had stolen from Techno), or force him out. 

It was also nice that Techno’s only company was no longer a horse and an enderman in a boat on his second floor. He hadn’t realized how much he missed another person in the house with him. Philza had been living with him very briefly, but he lived in L’Manburg now. He never visited. 

The morning after they decided to work together, Techno offering to help Tommy retrieve his discs on the condition Tommy helped him commit “minor terrorism” on L’Manburg, Techno realizes he’s running low on resources. 

“Tommy. Wake up.” The room he’s in is slightly larger than it had been, since there wasn’t much room for Tommy to live in the cabin, and Techno felt bad leaving him in such a cramped space.    
After all, it had only taken about a half an hour to chip the walls back into a reasonable size, put a nicer bed and some chests down there for him, and paint the walls to make it look a little bit nicer. He also installed a trapdoor and ladder so that it could lead into the actual house, and some pegs on the wall to hang a coat. 

Tommy had flung the coat he was wearing on the floor when he went to sleep, and Techno hung it up. He didn’t really mind, it was an old coat with fading colors and patches sewn into it. Tommy could have it if he really wanted it. Techno put his extra cloak on the pegs, however, in case Tommy preferred it. It was much more bland and drab than the cloak Techno usually wore, and Techno wasn’t gonna use it. Someone might as well. 

Honestly, Techno almost doesn’t want to wake Tommy. His face is much less pinched, much less sad when he’s sleeping, despite the small twitches of his fingers and whispered words signaling that his dream might be less than enjoyable. He doesn’t look like the weight of the world has been put on his shoulders. He looks like a kid. 

However, this kid needs to help Techno get food and ingredients for potions if he wants to live there, so Techno shakes his shoulder a little harder. Tommy bolts upright in his bed, hair a mess.

“I’m so sorry Dream, I fell asleep an-” Tommy’s wild eyes meet Techno’s and he looks down. “Sorry. I thought I was… I thought you were… “

Techno blinks in surprise at the quick words, the unexpected outburst of fear and panic. He thinks to himself, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last time,  _ What did Dream do to him in exile? _

The shock is quickly forgotten however, when Tommy pulls himself up, stretches his arms and legs, and cries out boisterously, “Why did you get me up so early? I was sleeping. It’s much easier to sleep without someone shaking your shoulder, dickhead.” 

Techno rolls his eyes, “Because we have to go hunting. I’m running out of spider eyes, blaze powder, and nether wart, and we’re gonna need some invis pots. If you’re gonna live here, and you’re gonna use them, you have to help me make them. Anyways, it’s not good to sleep too long. Can’t have you groggy while we’re hunting.” 

He turns back, expecting a sharp retort, but instead, when he meets Tommy’s gaze, there’s something in Tommy’s eyes that makes Techno’s heart flame. There’s a hopeful look echoing behind his features like he hadn’t had someone care for him in a while. Not that Techno particularly cared for Tommy, but still. He looked like he needed a hug. 

Techno cleared his throat and turned away quickly,

“Get dressed and cleaned up, I left you some clothes on your chest. I’ll be making breakfast and we’ll fit you some armor when you’re ready. Then we’ll leave.”

As Techno reaches the ladder and begins to climb, he hears a hesitant breath, like Tommy wants to say something. He pauses, and looks back. 

“Um… Techno… thank you.”

Techno just gives a curt nod and leaves. 

***

That was the most embarrassing thing to ever fucking happen to him. Tommy falls back onto his noticeably more comfortable bed, and leans his head into his hands. When did he get all sappy? He can’t remember feeling this clean in a while. He can’t remember feeling the warmth of friendship even from Tubbo. After the revolution, and Tubbo was made president, there wasn’t actually much time for him to hang out. He had to make laws and shit. It had been so long since he had a real acquaintance. 

Obviously, Technoblade isn’t Tommy’s friend. They made that very clear the previous night, when Techno had offered an alliance, and Tommy had accepted it. He was desperate, sure, but he made clear that he hadn’t forgiven Techno for almost killing Tubbo. He wasn’t sure if he ever could. 

But when Technoblade tells Tommy that he found some clothes for him to wear, and that he had noticed that his shoes were missing, and that he was making some armor for him, Tommy couldn’t help the happiness that rose in his throat. 

He couldn’t remember being cared for. 

Tommy stands from the bed, raking a hand through his messy bedhead and grabbing the clothes from the chest. One glance at the pants tell them that they’ll definitely be too big. He pulls them on anyways, grabbing a piece of string from the chest and using it as a makeshift belt. 

The shirt fits well enough, and he smiles at the color. It’s red on top, white on the bottom. His signature colors. He wonders if Technoblade did that on purpose. He notices something hanging on a peg on the wall, and realizes it’s a cloak.   
It’s red and luscious and fur trimmed, with a gold chain to connect each side on his chest. It seems much warmer than the jacket he had originally stolen, which is hung up next to where the cloak was originally. He doesn’t remember putting it there. He pulls the cloak around his shoulders, snuggling subconsciously into the warmth, pushing his face into the fur and closing his eyes.    
He can’t imagine living like this, wearing items like this all the time. Techno must have a great life. And now, since Tommy was now living with him, he would too. Tommy grinned and grabbed the ladder to start climbing up. 

He smells the breakfast before he sees it. It’s eggs and toast, and the scent of warm baked bread and hot food makes Tommy’s mouth water. 

Techno doesn’t see Tommy at first, doesn’t see the trapdoor swing open and Tommy haul himself up, grabbing a chair and falling into it. He doesn’t notice that Tommy’s even there, and it irritates him. He makes an exaggerated coughing sound, but Techno still doesn’t turn. He scoots the chair back against the wood floors, causing them to squeal terribly. The sound makes Techno jump, and his hand lands on the stove, burning his fingers. 

“Oh my god, Tommy! What the heck! What was the reason to do that? I burned my hand!” Techno’s hand flies up to rake through his long pink hair. 

Instead of feeling guilt, Tommy instead decides to focus on the slightly less obvious. 

“You didn’t react.”

“What do you mean, Tommy? Of course I reacted. I literally jumped.”

“No, no, no. When your hand touched the stove. You didn’t react. A normal person would like, scream or something. Why didn’t you react?”

Something in Techno’s demeanor changes. His eyes become more guarded, his stance more straight. 

“I dunno. Maybe I’m not weak like some people. I can take a little burn.” 

Tommy decides to drop it. It’s not like he really cares, anyways. 

“Alright, here’s your breakfast. Eat quickly, we still have to figure out your armor and get you some weapons. I can’t believe you really don’t have any. What were you even doing in exile?”

Tommy’s stomach twists painfully.    
“I would normally have armor. You would be surprised how many sets I did make.” He grimaces at the memories.

Techno looks at the pained look on Tommy’s face and frowns.

“Whatever. I just need to make sure the armor I do have fits you well enough, because you’re kind of small.” 

Tommy scoffs at this. “Actually, I’m the biggest man in this country. You’re small.”

“Ok, Tommy. Sure.”

Techno’s reply is complacent but laced with humor. Tommy finds himself smiling at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm still new to writing - this is my first fic, so pls don't judge too hard on my inability to write angst 
> 
> comments/kudos = fuel


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 250 hits???
> 
> i'm starting to realize this is like an actual thing now. okay. 
> 
> enjoy the angst :)

After breakfast, Techno realizes that the armor he found for Tommy was definitely too big. The chest plate might have fit Technoblade, but he also had about six inches on the child, and was much more muscular. He didn’t remember Tommy being as skinny as he is. Was he eating in exile? 

After much more rummaging through chests, he manages to find a chestplate and leggings small enough to fit Tommy, and brings them up. 

“I don’t have any spare netherite armor, but if I find some in the Nether I’ll upgrade you as soon as we get back.” 

Tommy nods.

He straps them on and ties each securely in place. He ignores how Tommy flinches whenever Techno’s fingers brush against his neck, or his back, or his calf. 

Once his armor is securely on, Tommy grins widely. He flexes his arms up and down, feeling the diamond armor move with him like he had forgotten what being protected felt like. 

Techno turns to put his own armor on. 

Once they set out and get decently far from the house, Tommy wielding a netherite axe with a pick strapped across his back and Techno with a sword and bow, Techno begins explaining his plans for the day. 

“There’s a portal just over this ridge, and we’ll go to the Nether. There’s a fortress nobody else has really found yet and there’s a crazy amount of mobs there. It’s where I usually farm resources. Especially wi-” Techno cuts himself off, earning a strange look from Tommy.  “Especially blazes. We need more blaze powder. Plus, I’d like to get some soul sand and nether wart, and there's a bastion right next to it. I'll see if I can find any netherite.”

Tommy is silent. 

“Sound good? I trust you’ll be good in the Nether. I’m not here to be your babysitter.” Techno’s not sure why he’s egging Tommy on. He’s slightly uncomfortable with Tommy’s unusual silence, although it’s not like he had been talking much last night either.

He remembers the exhaustingly rambunctious teen who had been so crucial in the making of Pogtopia This kid is so different. So… tired. Sad. 

“Who’re you calling a- I don’t need a babysitter. I can fight mobs.”

Ok, maybe not that sad. Techno grins. “Alright, whatever. Just don’t die.”

Tommy scoffs and they continue to the portal in comfortable silence. 

Techno has never liked going through portals. Something about it just seems… unnatural. Like people shouldn’t be travelling between dimensions. It doesn’t help that the Nether seems to like Techno as much as he likes it. The heat is almost painful, the ground fleshy and wet, the lava all too easy to fall into.

It’s the only place to find what he needs, however, which is nether wart and blaze. He curses himself for not grabbing some earlier, when he had been in the very fortress gathering wither skulls. 

It cannot be helped, however, and Techno braces himself for the uncomfortable sensation as he steps into the nether portal, glancing to the side at Tommy. Tommy doesn’t look back, but seems lost in thought. It’s weird, considering Techno thought that Tommy didn’t have thoughts. 

They arrive in the Nether and Techno is immediately unsettled. He always is. The many layers required to stay warm in the snowy biome where he lives are more than unnecessary in the Nether. 

_ Touch the lava. Jump off. Kill Tommy. Push him in.  _

He immediately strips his cloak off, and deposits it in a chest next to the portal. It barely helps. Tommy notices his wardrobe change and hesitates before unhooking the chain holding the cloak in place. He seems to not want to take it off, which is weird because of how hot it is. Techno shrugs it off.

He sets off towards the nether fortress, deftly climbing through the strange terrain with skill. He can hear Tommy following him. 

He hears the squealing of a pig before he sees it. A piglin charging at them with a crossbow and full golden armor. 

Shit. 

Had they really forgotten to wear gold? Was he really that stupid? 

He turns to Tommy, whose eyes are wide but stance determined.    
“You don’t happen to have any gold boots on you, do you?”

“Nope. Sorry big man. If I had them I’d be wearing them.” 

Techno curses under his breath, and turns back to the piglin. He’s always hated having to kill them. He much prefered to just avoid the mobs, but it’s kind of hard to just avoid someone that’s attacking you. 

It had taken Techno a while to realize that killing the piglins in the Nether wasn’t such a bad thing to do. Any connection he might have had to them was rendered insignificant once Techno saw the ruthlessness with which humans killed each other. Still, he prefered to make their deaths as painless as possible, and, with one smooth movement, he rammed his sword through the heart of the piglin and pulled it back. The piglin was silent, and disappeared with a puff, leaving behind a battered chestplate and helmet. 

The chestplate clearly wouldn’t fit Techno, he was far too bulky, but it seemed the right size for Tommy. Techno helped him to secure it in place and pulled the helmet onto his head. A little tight, but it would have to do. 

The next piglin they pass ignores them.

Tommy spots a warped forest, and clears his throat awkwardly. Techno swings around, still walking. 

“Hey, big man. Could we stop here for a minute and grab some wood? There’s something I wanna build with the blue planks. It’ll only take a minute.”

“Sure, whatever,” Techno grumbles. “We’ll spend even more time in the nether.”

Tommy seems to shrink back at his harsh words, and there’s a twinge in Techno’s heart. He didn’t really  _ need _ to be that mean. After all, it’s perfectly reasonable to stop in the biome if Tommy wants some wood. 

Techno’s gaze softens. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll wait here.”

Tommy’s face splits into a grin and he starts to half-jog away, hefting his axe and saying, “Good on you, Big T! I’ll only be a minute!”

Techno turns back to hide his smile. Only a day and Tommy was already starting to grow on him. He had to admit to himself, it was kind of nice having someone keeping him company. Tommy wouldn’t have been his first choice, but he’s good for a laugh. 

Techno spots a ghast out of the corner of his vision, and is immediately on edge. It drifts aimlessly, moving closer and closer to where Techno stands, just outside of the warped forest. Its eyes suddenly turn red, and it cries out, sending a hot, flaming fireball in Techno’s direction. He raises a sword to block the hit, but it misses him completely. For a second, he is stunned that the ghast would miss so terribly, until he hears a shriek from behind him. 

_ Tommy. Tommy. Save Tommy. Kill the ghast. Save Tommy. Tommy.  _

Techno whirls around to spot Tommy, and sees that he is narrowly blocking and dodging the fireballs of the ghast. The ghast cries again, and again, sending attack after attack. Tommy’s reaction times are slowing, and he has nowhere to run. The trees block him in, and Techno can see a drip of sweat on his forehead, can tell the axe is getting hot. 

It swoops in closer to Tommy and further from Techno, who pulls out his crossbow. One well aimed arrow takes the ghast down. It disappears in a puff of smoke, a single ghast tear falling from the sky.

“Tommy, are you hurt?” Techno clambers over to him, assessing his armor for damage.

“No, I’m okay. The ghast couldn’t get me with all my dodgin’ and weavin’.”

Techno ignores the rush of relief in his chest. 

“Do you have all the wood you need, or should we stay here and get almost killed a couple more times?” Techno says, half joking.

“I’m good on warped planks. Lead the way, big man.” Tommy slings his axe over his shoulder, sauntering off. 

“Leading the way would mean I’m in front.” Techno grumbles to himself. “And it’s this way.”

Techno turns and starts walking. 

***

Tommy needs to stop embarrassing himself. First, he’s agreeing to the domestic life with big brother Techno, then he’s needing saving from a ghast? What is he, a princess? 

He sheepishly turns to follow Techno, letting his chin relax down. No point in being proud if Techno wasn’t even paying attention. He walked, picking at the handle of the axe. It was beautiful, glowing purple with enchantments and light in his hands. 

Techno never uses an axe. Tommy wonders why. It’s always a sword and a crossbow with that man. Strange, considering an axe is much more deadly. 

It takes different training, though, Tommy reasons, and Techno might just be better with a sword than an axe. 

“We’re here.” Techno’s monotone voice cuts through Tommy’s thoughts. He looks up at miles of nether brick walls. 

“Awesome. Let’s go kill some motherfuckers.”

“Wait. Tommy. I’ll get the blaze. You find the nether wart. We’ll meet back here.”

Tommy’s protest dies in his throat. Techno was better at fighting. This was obvious, especially considering he killed the ghast before Tommy could. Tommy would just be in the way if he went with Techno. He lowers his eyes. 

“You got it, big man.”

Techno huffs, clearly relieved at the lack of a fight. He lifts foot and slams it against the bricks, and with two strong huffs, breaches the fortress. He steps through, and out of sight. Which leaves Tommy alone. 

Tommy shivers despite the heat pressing against his skin. It’s fucking hot here. 

Well, he might as well get going. He follows Techno into the fortress, immediately losing sight of him as he turns a corner. Tommy faces the other way, legs trembling slightly and eyes wary. He’s never liked nether fortresses. Too many things that would really like to kill him. 

Three turns later, there it is. A nice little garden of nether wart. There are only a few sprigs, but Tommy figures they can plant them back at the house and have some more. Maybe they can grow next to the potatoes. 

Tommy grins, and starts towards them when he hears a dry clattering. Tommy shivers. He glances up from the nether wart and spots a wither skeleton. He recalls all too well the bite of its sword and the agony that ripped through his body when it grazed his arm. Not a pleasant experience. 

Tommy grimaces at the memory and quickly turns the corner, pressing his back flat against the wall of the hallway. He peers around the wall at the skeleton and it shifts, causing the hairs on the back of Tommy’s neck to raise. 

His eyes burn into the back of the wither skeleton’s head, hard enough to leave a mark. The skeleton just shifts its creaking bones and begins to shuffle away. Tommy exhales.

He kneels down to pull the nether wart from the thick sand, wincing as it burned into his hand. The small bulbous plant was deceptively beautiful, with its golden sheen and tart red color. Tommy knew that he probably shouldn’t be touching it with his bare hands, but he figures he’d rinse them off as soon as they left the Nether, so it would be fine. He shoves the few sprigs of nether wart into his small satchel on his waist, exchanging it for a golden apple which he crunches down on. 

Welp. 

There wasn’t much else for Tommy to do. He supposes he could go try to find Technoblade, but he would probably just get lost. Tommy turns back, following the turns he remembers taking back to the hole Techno had so gracefully created. He steps through.

There are pigmen and piglins strewn about, but no blazes or ghasts to be seen. Tommy decides not to pick any fights, especially since he didn’t want Techno to come back and have to save him from drowning in undead pigs. He had been saved one too many times for the day, thank you. 

Finishing his apple, Tommy walked over to the edge of a cliff. The lake of lava below him was bubbling and as inviting as he remembered. 

_ You could do it. Who would miss you? Techno doesn’t really care for you, you don’t think that right? He’s just too lazy to do this alone.  _

Voices whisper in Tommy’s head, startling him. What startles him even more is the fact that they are sort of making sense. Who would miss him? Nobody from L’Manburg. They didn’t even care that he had been exiled, so why would they care if he was dead? 

Tommy lifts his foot gingerly, stepping slowly closer to the edge of the lava. Despite his being about a hundred feet above it, the searing heat of the unforgiving liquid begins to burn against Tommy’s leg, his face, his chest. Tommy closes his eyes and relaxes his shoulders. The burning sensation certainly doesn’t feel nice, but it’s something. It’s better to focus on than his friends abandoning him. 

His foot inches forwards. Tommy opens his eyes slowly and begins to lean forwards. 

It would be so easy.

Nobody would care.

He wouldn’t have to hurt anymore.

“Tommy, you ready to go?”

A deep voice cuts through Tommy’s thoughts, shaking him from his stupor. He flinches and turns, almost losing his balance against the edge of the cliff.

Techno’s hand darts out and grabs Tommy’s arm, pulling him to safety.

“You’ve gotta watch out for the cliffs. They can be deadly.” Techno says lamely. There’s concern in his eyes, and Tommy wonders how much of that he had seen. Tommy shakes his head and attempts a smile. It feels weak. 

“Lava can’t hurt me. I’m invincible.”

Techno narrows his eyes, but a smile quirks up at the edge of his lips. 

“I’ll push you. See how invincible you are then.” 

Tommy shifts backwards, eyes flashing with alarm, and Techno bursts out in laughter. 

“Oh, Tommy. You know I’m joking. Let’s get back home. I found some netherite in a bastion and want to fix up your diamond armor. Can’t be destroying a government in less than perfect armor.”

Tommy grins at the thought of having his own set of netherite armor. He had never bothered to try to make any. For the first time in months, Tommy feels like things are going his way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woahhhhhhh tommy's got voices? pog
> 
> also - idk if i'm capitalizing the nether stuff right... idk it looks fine and i dont wanna capitalize every time i write it especially cuz i dont capitalize "cobblestone" so why should i capitalize "nether brick?"
> 
> comments/kudos = fuel :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a panic attack, and Techno shows him his bone collection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like rn when i'm writing it's not?? my writing?? like ik i wrote it bc i remember writing it but,,,, it's so weird bc i'm like "i wouldn't have written it that way tho"
> 
> maybe i'm going crazy 
> 
> enjoy the chapter and thx for all the love <333

As Techno chips carefully at the large chunk of ancient debris, trying to dislodge the miniscule pieces of scrap, he thinks back to Tommy, standing at the edge of the lava. 

He should have looked scared. He should have seen how close to the edge he was, should have backed away from the heat of the lava, but instead, he had shifted closer. Like the fact that he could fall in was tempting. Like he wanted to. 

When Techno grabbed his attention and he turned, his eyes were lost. Techno recognized the look in his eyes as one of his own. 

So Tommy hears the voices. Interesting.

Techno recalls the first time he was bombarded with them, echoing mercilessly in his teenage mind as he buried his head underneath his arms and cried out. He was lucky Phil had been there to calm him down, to give him a sword and help him keep his mind off of them. 

The bloodlust they instilled in Techno that night never seemed to cease. Techno wonders if he will have to be Tommy’s Philza. He shudders at the thought. Mentoring Tommy? The two of them aren’t quite as far in age as Techno had been with Phil. The eight years between the two of them created almost like a father and son relationship. 

Tommy seemed to Techno more like a little brother. Five years was a lot different from eight. Plus, Tommy didn’t listen to Techno. 

“Hey, Techno?” Tommy calls from the floor below. Technoblade takes one more pick, pulling the final piece of scrap from the debris. He gathers up all of the small metal shards and places them into the smelter. They begin to dissolve immediately. 

“Technoblade?” Tommy’s voice rings out again. 

“What do you need, Tommy?”

“Uh, come here dickhead, and I’ll tell you.” Tommy cheekily replies.

Techno grunts and places down his small pick, standing and brushing dust off of his pants. He turns and lowers himself down the ladder, turning and huffing at Tommy. His eyes widen immediately.

Tommy is holding out his hands, red with burn marks. Techno recognizes them as ones he had, after touching nether wart with his bare hands. The plant was strange, and the burns only surfaced hours after contact. That explains why he hadn’t brought it up. 

Tommy looks embarrassed. 

“Let me guess. You touched th-”

“I touched the nether wart. I know, it was stupid of me. Can you fix it please?”

Techno silently turns away and opens a chest, finding a small glass bottle with thick pink liquid inside. He uncorks it and pours a generous amount into Tommy’s hands, then grabbing a small roll of bandages and beginning to wrap his palms. Tommy winces a few times, earning a glare from Techno. 

“Stay still. It’ll go faster.”

“But it hurts,” Tommy whines, “And your wrapping is shit.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to do it?” Techno’s mockingly patient retort makes Tommy roll his eyes. 

“That’s what I thought. Now stay still.” 

Techno pulls the fabric tight, tighter than he really needs to and Tommy flinches. 

“Jesus, I’d rather just do it myself.” 

Techno ignores him and rips the bandage with his teeth, tucking it in. Beautiful. He turns and does the same on the other hand. This takes a considerably shorter amount of time, because Tommy has given up on his twitching and pulling away. Techno looks up as he finishes, watching Tommy carefully as he flexes his fingers gently, feeling the slight give of the cloth wrapping his hands. 

“Cool. Now I can go back to stabbin’ shit.”

“Actually, not yet. Take your armor off.” Techno turns, stashing the leftover fabric and unfinished potion back into their chest and closing it gently. He hears no movement behind him. 

“Tommy?” He glances back at the blond teen, and his eyebrows furrow in concern.

Tommy looks at the brink of tears. His lip is quivering and his eyes are wide. Gasping, shuddering breaths rip through him as he stands, unmoving in front of Techno. He doesn’t seem to be looking at him, however. His eyes are glassy and unfocused. Tremors echo through his chest. Tommy begins to crumple.

Techno quickly steps forward, catching the small boy and grunting. He was supporting Tommy’s whole weight, and not in the correct position to do so. He picked him up carefully, bridal style, and sat him down on top of a chest. 

“Tommy? What’s goin’ on? Hey, are you alright?” Techno can’t help the slight panic in his voice. 

“C’mon, Tommy. Talk to me. Breathe. It’s gonna be okay. Tell me what’s wrong.” 

_ Tommy. Help him. Calm him down. Bring him water. Help Tommy. Stop him. Save Tommy. _

Techno shakes Tommy’s shoulder gently, his concern growing and blooming rapidly in his chest. 

Tears slip down Tommy’s cheeks as he shudders, leaning against Techno. 

He awkwardly pats him on the head; Techno had never really been good with emotions. He hates the way he understands how Tommy feels, recalls his own nights of silent struggle. He can practically taste the panic as he remembers huddling beneath his sheets in the middle of the night, overwhelmed by voices asking for blood. He suppresses a shudder. 

***

“Take off your armor.” 

Dream’s voice echoes like a ghost behind Techno’s words. Tommy freezes, looking up. The cabin is gone. Instead of neatly laid stone bricks beneath his feet, there’s luscious green grass. A small, well worn path slithers by next to him, two white tents and a large stone wall about fifty feet from him. 

“No.” Tommy’s voice comes out in a whisper. “No, no, no, no.” 

“Tommy? Did you hear me, big guy? I said take off your armor and put it in the hole.”

Tommy whirls around and comes face to face with a white ceramic mask. It smiles cruelly and unblinkingly. Dream stands facing him, towering above in his lime green sweatshirt and netherite armor. 

Tommy’s breathing quickens. His heart hammers in his chest. He can’t be back. He just escaped. He just  _ left _ goddamnit, and he can’t be back. He has to run. 

Tommy turns on his heel, chest heaving, tears beginning to burn painfully behind his eyes. They blur his vision, the land wobbling in front of him. 

His feet pound against the grass, and he feels himself moving, so why isn’t he going anywhere? He looks over his shoulder at the masked man, watching in horror as he begins to slowly move forwards. He seems to be taking his time, like he knows that no matter how fast Tommy ran, he will find him. He will catch him. He will kill him. 

Tommy’s foot catches and he sprawls out on the hard ground, dirt in his mouth and his hair, under his nails as he claws forwards. He has to go. He can’t be back.

He feels a gentle pressure on his back, rubbing circles. His breathing slowly calms, focusing on the warm gesture. He blinks, coming back to the cabin. He’s seated on a chest, and there’s an arm around him. His head is buried in something warm. 

***

Tommy’s breathing slows and his sobbing ceases. He blinks rapidly, seeming to realize his position, curled up against Techno’s chest.

He turns his head away quickly, raising a hand to wipe his tears and nose. He sniffs, sobs still wracking his body. Techno frowns in concern, hand still absentmindedly rubbing Tommy’s back. 

Tommy seems to realize what Techno is doing and shifts away. Techno drops his hand. 

“I’m not really good in these types of situations,” Techno’s voice is loud and brash in stark contrast to the long stretch of silence that had been breached only by Tommy’s broken sobs. His words sound out of place. 

“But,” he continues, “If you want to tell me what’s going on, I’ll listen.”

Tommy shakes his head no. 

“I-” His voice trembles. He clears his throat. “I think I’m just gonna go to sleep.”

Techno awkwardly shifts. 

“Can you give m-” He pauses. “I wanna upgrade your armor and put some enchantments on them. You can leave your armor wherever and I’ll grab it.”

Techno stands to go.

“It’ll be ready for you in the morning.”

Tommy nods. Techno ascends the ladder.

_ What was that? _

As soon as Techno reaches the table in his kitchen, he collapses into a chair. 

_ What just happened? _

Techno realizes that the voices in his head had been silent while Tommy was sobbing, and they came back with much fervor. 

_ Panic attack. Tommy had a panic attack. Why Tommy? Dream. Tommy panic. Help Tommy. What did Dream do? Kill Dream. Save Tommy. _

His thoughts, directed by the voices, turn to Dream. He had been the only one visiting Tommy, Techno was sure of it. Nobody else would have allowed Tommy to get this fucked up. It seemed that Techno asking for Tommy’s armor had set him off. He had also mentioned that he made multiple sets of armor. Did Dream take it? Why would Dream want Tommy’s armor?  _ What happened in exile? _

***

A week later, they still haven’t spoken about it, and Techno still hasn’t upgraded Tommy’s armor. Techno is beginning to get worried. However, Tommy seems to be growing more chipper and annoying by the minute. Today, he’s actually skipping around, killing spiders and skeletons with his axe and collecting arrows and spider eyes. 

Techno leans back against his seat at the kitchen table, wrapping his hands around his steaming mug of coffee and musing. 

It can’t be too big of a deal what happened if he’s over it already, he reasons. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s just making excuses, but whatever, right? No harm, no foul. Techno certainly found no harm in sitting back for once. No need to scare the kid away, especially when he was just starting to enjoy his company.

_ Show him. It’s time. He deserves to know. Show him the skulls. Tell him our plan. Show him. _

Techno winces at the words as they sharply bounce to the front of his focus. 

_ Tommy should know. He will help you. Show Tommy. It’s time. _

Techno furrows his brow. If he shows Tommy the skulls, then Tommy will have one of two reactions. He’ll either run away screaming, and Techno will hunt him down and kill him before he can tell anybody else, or he’ll take it in stride and understand that Techno  _ needs _ to do this. He needs to destroy L’Manburg. 

Techno knows how important L’Manburg is to Tommy. He was there when it was founded and whatever, but it’s corrupt. He will have to see that. 

Seeing no downsides to this plan, he abruptly stands from his seat. Reaching over to the trapdoor covering the window, he flips it up and sticks his head outside the window. The sky is dark and moonless, the few torches scattered across the lawn throwing just barely enough light to make out Tommy’s shape. Techno watches as he thrusts his sword messily into the underbelly of a spider and steps back, watching it hiss and crumble to dust. He leans down to pick up something from the ashes. A spider eye. 

Techno can’t see his face as he puts it in his satchel, but he imagines it to be something of disgust. Techno grins. He himself hates gathering spider eyes, because of the squishy, wet texture that coats his fingers when he picks them up. They’re essential in making most potions, though. He’s never had someone to order around other than Phil, but he wouldn’t make Phil do something so menial. Phil would make him do it. 

“Tommy!” Techno calls. He sees the blonde head snap towards the house. “Come back inside. I’ve gotta show you something.”

Tommy begins to jog closer. Techno steps out the wide doors onto the small stone brick landing, peering out into the dark and assessing the number of mobs out. There aren’t too many, but god knows how many are lurking in the shadows. He hears Tommy approach behind him, and spins around. 

“Well? Whaddaya want? I had a good rhythm goin’ with those spiders.” Tommy arches an eyebrow in mock annoyance. 

“Tommy, we’ve gotten closer these past few days together, haven’t we? We’re on the same side.” Tommy’s smirk slowly turns to mild confusion. 

“I mean, sure. We both pretty much want the same things.”

“Right, Tommy. We both want L’Manburg gone for all it did to us-to you, Tommy. Remember what they all did to you? How they teamed up against you?” 

A shadow passes fleetingly over Tommy’s face. It’s gone in an instant, replaced with a neutral, almost passive look. 

“They did kinda screw me over, but I still… I still care about it. Ya know? Wilbur and I, we-”

“Tommy, I want to show you something. Follow me.” Techno slides a hand into his pocket and wraps his fingers around a stone button. 

He shuffles down the stairs, picking up a torch at the bottom and lighting it with the flick of a flint and steel. He holds it out, lighting the snow before them. Luckily, the weather is clear, the moon brightly shining in the sky. It bathes the world in pure silver, and sets a chill into Techno’s bones. 

They trek for a bit, rounding a mountainside and coming to a stop in front of a large stone wall. Techno feels against the wall for a familiar ridge on the right side, and sets the button against it. 

He turns to face Tommy, whose breath is coming out in short puffs and is furrowing his brow at the mountain. 

“You see, this is something, Tommy, that I haven’t-I haven’t shown anyone. Not even Philza. The truth is, I didn’t want him to see this side of me. I’ve been tryin’ to resist the voices, but… the voices… they say so many things.”

Tommy quirks an eyebrow. 

“Well the truth is, I’ve been working on something. It’s just a little- just a little hobby. I need you to stand right there.” He raises an arm towards a spot directly in front of the wall. 

“Will I die?” Techno can’t tell if Tommy is joking or not.

“No, you will not die. If I wanted you dead I would’ve killed you already.”

Tommy ducks his head in agreement, and shuffles back towards the spot Techno had gestured to. 

In one swift movement, he presses the stone button. It’s cold against his hand, the sharp ridges pressing against his palm. Instantly, the sound of pistons echoes across the field. 

***

The wall slowly lowers to reveal a darkly lit vault. Tommy’s stomach plummets. There are chests against each wall, redstone lamps in the floor. The most prominent feature of the room, however, is the wither skulls. They line every exposed wall, mocking the two of them with their sunken eyes and open jaws. 

Tommy lets out a shriek. 

“Oh my god! What the fuck! What the shit is this?”

Techno cackles, throwing his head back and turning to step into the vault. His laughs echo across the walls, resounding against the terrifying ornamentation. 

“Oh, we’re gonna do so much violence. They thought two withers was bad, they should not have messed with Technoblade. They should have let me stay in retirement, Tommy.” The rough edge to Techno’s voice sends a shiver down Tommy’s spine. He tentatively steps inside, mouth gaping and eyes wide in shock. There have to be at least enough skulls here to make fifty withers. There’s no way they could lose, no matter what weapons L’Manburg has. 

The thought sends a sharp stab of pain into Tommy’s heart. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Look at me in the eyes, Technoblade. We’re just getting the discs back. I do  _ not  _ want to upset Tubbo-”

“By any means necessary?”

“No! Not by- well I guess, sort of by any means necessary, but that’s not- Techno look at me. Although they have wronged me, it is because of Wilbur, not because they chose to. We will  _ not _ upset L’Manburg, and we will  _ not  _ upset Tubbo.” 

Techno turns away, not meeting Tommy’s eyes.

“We can discuss this later.” He briskly walks over to an armor stand, covered in full netherite armor and dripping with enchantments. He runs three fingers over the smooth metal. “These are for you.”

As Tommy slides the armor onto him, he feels a hot white burn of shame in the pit of his stomach.

All he’s there for is to get back his discs. That’s all Techno’s going to do, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments/kudos = fuel
> 
> pls i had the writing bug for like three days come back i need the motivation


End file.
